


Baby, It's Cold Outside

by Actual_Writing_Trashcan



Series: Colossus Hyperfixation Collection [86]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Cold Weather, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fireplaces, Fluff, Making Out, Partial Nudity, Power Outage, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Winter, piotr needs to wear more henleys, time to kick off the october smut journey, with some nice pg-13 making out and allusions to sex sldfjfslkjflkdsjf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26829838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Actual_Writing_Trashcan/pseuds/Actual_Writing_Trashcan
Summary: A winter squall sweeps across New York and knocks out the power at yours and Piotr's home. The two of you make camp next to the fireplace to stay warm until the power comes back on --and find other ways to stay warm, too.(Set after "The Christmas Decorating Fic.")[All warnings in the tags; this is part of a weekly October series that will ramp up in smutiness as each week passes. This one's more smut adjacent than outright filth, hence the 'T' rating.]
Relationships: Piotr Rasputin/Reader
Series: Colossus Hyperfixation Collection [86]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1079544
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Baby, It's Cold Outside

The lights flicker once, then twice.

You look up from your laptop. You stare at the nearest lamp, then over at your husband. “I’d say ghosts, but it’s the wrong season for them.”

Piotr chuckles, holding a pastel between his index finger and thumb as he works on a picture of a waterfall. “Probably just storm.”

To punctuate his point, the wind howls outside. The house and nearby trees creak under the force of the wind and snow.

The lights flicker again. The furnace bounces with them, shutting off before the quiet hum kicks back in.

Piotr frowns. “I am going to call mansion, see if they are having problems as well—”

The lights flicker again –then go out, plunging your home into darkness.

“Well,” you say after a moment of sitting in the darkness. “That’s a problem.”

* * *

It’s not just your home –or the school, for that matter. The squall has knocked out a good section of New York City by hitting several transformers. The electrical crews are doing what they can, but given the conditions, it’s going to be a while before the power comes back on.

You, for one, are not bothered. You’re wrapped in a blanket, curled up in a chair while you stare outside at the pristine blankets of snow. “It’s so crazy how much light the snow reflects, huh?”

“ _Da_ ,” Piotr agrees as he hauls in a gargantuan armload of firewood. He closes the door behind him, stomps off his boots, then places the firewood in a neat pile on the mat by the door. “It is very beautiful.”

“Yeah,” you agree, voice almost wistful as you gaze out at the snow. “It really is.”

Piotr smiles fondly as he watches you. He shucks out of his winter gear, hangs them up on the coat rack mounted next to the door, then crosses the distance between the two of you and kisses your cheek. “It is not only beautiful thing.”

You shriek and try to squirm away. “Your nose is so cold!”

Piotr laughs and presses his ice-cold nose into the crook of your neck. “You are very warm, _myshka_.”

“No! You sadist!”

He laughs again, then relents in his torture of you. “Temperatures will be under freezing tonight. Should we set up ‘camp’ down here, next to fireplace, so we stay warm?”

“Hey, I’ve got the world’s biggest Russian heater at a bedmate,” you tease, nestling up against his brawny chest to reinforce your point. “I’m gonna be just fine.”

Piotr chuckles and draws his arm around you. He kisses the top of your head. “Would you grab camping stove and lamps from basement? I can bring down bed and blankets.”

“Ooh, are we going to have a sleepover? Can we tell ghost stories?” you joke.

“If you like,” Piotr says, voice fond beyond measure. “If you like.”

* * *

The two of you set up shop in the family room, next to the fireplace. Piotr sets the bed down between the fireplace and the couch –though not too close, so as not to risk an incident—then sets about building a fire while you get the lamps and camp stove set up.

“I brought up some extra quilts and stuff, too,” you say as Piotr blows on the lit kindling to help the logs catch. “I thought we could hang them up to help block the heat in here?”

“Good thinking, _myshka_ ,” Piotr says as he stuffs some extra dryer lint between the logs.

* * *

Once the fire’s going, the two of you set about hanging blankets across the doorways and the stairwell to help trap the warm air (with the help of a few picture hanging nails). After that’s done, Piotr makes the bed while you light a few candles for ambience.

“Is this a ‘buttercream frosting’ kind of night or a ‘frosted holly’ kind of night?” you ask as you peer at the labels printed on the jars.

“Do we not have more ‘Gingerbread Dreams?’” Piotr asks as he smooths out the flannel blanket the two of you keep under the comforter during the colder months.

“I burned through the last of that on Friday.”

He ‘tsks’ and places the pillows at the head of the bed. “Holly, then. Buttercream is too sweet.”

“Suit yourself.” You light the maroon colored candle, then set on a shelf where it’ll be clear of the bed. “How’re we looking?”

“Very cozy.” Piotr sits on the bed, then holds a hand out to you. He draws you in against his chest, encircling his burly arms around you. “ _Privet_.”

“Hey, yourself.” You smile up at him as you settle in his lap. “Come here often?”

He runs the pad of his thumb along your jaw. “Not nearly often enough.”

A shiver runs down your spine when his lips meet yours. You wind your arms around his neck, eyelids sliding shut as Piotr holds you closer still. You hum, contentment and pleasure singing through your veins.

Piotr moans softly as his lips move against yours. His hands rub up and down your back, caressing you through your sweater –and then he slowly, gently lays you down against the bed.

Your legs part on instinct, making room for his hips to settle between your thighs. You clutch at his broad, powerful shoulders, breath catching in your throat when he nips at your lower lip. A whine tugs at the back of your throat when his lips lower to your neck; you tip your head back to give him better access.

He tugs down your collar for better access. He slides his tongue along the column of your neck. His hips shift against yours when you moan, moving in soft, steady rocking motions.

You whimper when he rolls his tongue at the spot on the side of your neck, just under your jaw. “Piotr…”

The fire crackles a few feet away, bathing the room in a warm, golden glow.

He slides his hands under your sweater and shirt; they skim up your sides, easily spanning your ribcage before coming to a stop just below the band of your bra. He brushes his thumbs against the bottom of the cups, kissing you passionately as he does.

_Fuck it._ You quickly shuck out of your sweater and shirt, then divest Piotr of his Henley.

He sits back on his haunches, pulling you to his chest. His tongue licks into your mouth, swirling against your tongue briefly before he pulls back to kiss your neck again.

Your fingers slide into his hair. You clutch at his thick, dark tresses, dragging a low groan out of him. “This might be easier,” you manage, already breathless, “if we weren’t wearing pants.”

He chuckles against your throat. “You make excellent point, _myshka_.”

The pants come off. As does everything else. The room falls silent, save for the hissing and popping of the fire, the distant howl of the winter winds, and the sounds of your two’s bliss.

The world could end, and you wouldn’t need anything other than him.


End file.
